"I was a jumpy little kid. Back then I could still be woken up by loud noises, ma hearin' loss hadn't progressed so far, so the thunder and rattlin' scared me somethin' fierce," she says, with a nod. "Think this was ma first power outage, actually; stuff's usually built to withstand this kinda thing, these days."
"Hush now," her gran says, gentle but firm in her reassurance. "We're all here, and all safe. It's just the wind's taken down a line somewhere."
"What about Mam?" little Cammie asks. "Is she in the dark?"
Her dad laughs softly. "Oh, Bun, she's likely better off than we are. Those rigs are built to take the weather. She's probably tucked up in her bunk right now, reading a nice mystery, or out on the Ether talking to her friends."
The real Cammie smiles, a smile edged with both nostalgia and a little touch of sadness. "Maybe, aye. It's hard to live up to home." Gods, she misses it. It was quiet, just her and her Gran, but it was home. "Think I'd put my money on that bein' somethin' to do with the way ma brain's wired, or ma experience with havin' other people's memories, but that's the boring explanation. I like yours better."
She doesn't mention how her Dad's dead, now; how he didn't live long past finding out her Mam had died in an attack on a rig she was decommissioning, years later than this night. She doesn't mention it just like she doesn't question the implication that Robbie's childhood decidedly did not live up to the illusion presented by Darlington, because this is still a nice memory, and she's sure neither of them want to depress themselves.
cw: mention of parental death
"I was a jumpy little kid. Back then I could still be woken up by loud noises, ma hearin' loss hadn't progressed so far, so the thunder and rattlin' scared me somethin' fierce," she says, with a nod. "Think this was ma first power outage, actually; stuff's usually built to withstand this kinda thing, these days."
"Hush now," her gran says, gentle but firm in her reassurance. "We're all here, and all safe. It's just the wind's taken down a line somewhere."
"What about Mam?" little Cammie asks. "Is she in the dark?"
Her dad laughs softly. "Oh, Bun, she's likely better off than we are. Those rigs are built to take the weather. She's probably tucked up in her bunk right now, reading a nice mystery, or out on the Ether talking to her friends."
The real Cammie smiles, a smile edged with both nostalgia and a little touch of sadness. "Maybe, aye. It's hard to live up to home." Gods, she misses it. It was quiet, just her and her Gran, but it was home. "Think I'd put my money on that bein' somethin' to do with the way ma brain's wired, or ma experience with havin' other people's memories, but that's the boring explanation. I like yours better."
She doesn't mention how her Dad's dead, now; how he didn't live long past finding out her Mam had died in an attack on a rig she was decommissioning, years later than this night. She doesn't mention it just like she doesn't question the implication that Robbie's childhood decidedly did not live up to the illusion presented by Darlington, because this is still a nice memory, and she's sure neither of them want to depress themselves.